Elseworld
by TheRobinsNest
Summary: Unrelated else-world one shots focused on the Bat-family. Chapter 3- Flashpoint- The Flashpoint Paradox AU. Thomas Wayne goes to the circus.
1. Chapter 1- Big Brother Rules

**Else-world**

**Summary: **Chapter One - Big Brother Rules

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Batman.

* * *

Tim knew eventually that the war would reach Gotham, it was inevitable. Especially since Metropolis had been pulled only weeks before and Gotham had always been attracted to trouble; it thirst for it. The people wanted the war and in turn it came with a fierceness of two lovers who had not seen each other in years.

There were rules of course, self preservation rules to at least keep Gotham's population, because without its people, even the vilest ones, Gotham would disappear.

So Tim stood outside as he was held back by Jason, Damian by Cassandra. One of the neighborhood kids Stephanie, who always visited them held his hand tightly as he screamed at his oldest brother. Dick stood in front of the sharply dressed soldier accepting the draft papers that would take him away from his home and family. Every eldest son from every family was to go to war, if there was no father or son, an uncle or a cousin from the family was needed.

Dick was the oldest, and he took his responsibilities as the oldest seriously, gentle Dick, happy and optimistic Dick who had openly condemned the war. He didn't belong in it.

Tim should have known, should have done something when Dick had pulled Jason and Cassandra away to talk to them, should have realize when he heard Jason screaming at their oldest brother about how he would have taken his place. Jason, strong, hot-headed Jason who seemed so eager to go out in the war more than anyone else, who stood taller and was built bigger than the eldest, all hard muscles and hard stares, so different from Dick's lithe toned body and gentle eyes.

But it was useless, five years younger than Dick; he didn't earn the right to the papers, the name in the papers that asked for Richard Grayson Wayne to fight not Jason Todd Wayne.

Tim pulled and fought, but Jason had always been the strongest in the family. His grip was painful and Tim realized it wasn't because he wanted to pull Tim back, but because he couldn't do anything himself. Tim looked up at his brother's cold stone face, a face that resembled their dead father. Bruce should have been here, but he had been in Metropolis when the war hit it. MIA, they reported or most likely killed. They haven't heard from him in weeks and Dick took it for what it was.

Tim didn't believe it. Their father was a strong man, he couldn't have just died in such a way, they didn't find a body, and until he saw a body he wouldn't believe it. He should be here right now, fighting against them from taking his oldest son.

"Grayson!" Damian shouted from Cassandra's arms, eyes narrowed to slits as the uniformed man gave a stern salute and turned around to leave.

In all the years he'd lived in the Wayne Manor Tim finally saw the concrete truth that rooted fear in his stomach and climbed up to his heart before it settled in his throat. Truth that he had all too happily ignored when the war had broken out in Europe.

He watched as Dick stoned his features, no longer a smile twinkling before Prussian eyes. He stiffened his shoulders, stood straight and saluted back, reporting that he would see the commanding officer in three days.

_Three days._

His oldest brother, who had always been a rock for all of them, would soon be gone in three days. Tim fell to his knees, Jason followed him, large arms enveloped him from behind holding him as he shook. Stephanie who had let go of Tim's hand had stepped back as she wrapped her arms around her stomach, biting her lips to keep from sobbing openly.

Damian refused to imitate their defeat; he finally shook off Cassandra and ran toward the eldest Wayne ready to rip those papers from his brothers' hands.

Dick let him, let Damian rip the papers to shreds; let him throw it on the ground before pointing a finger at his chest and telling him that he was staying. That the war didn't need to take two people away from him.

It was useless of course. Those papers didn't matter, they were just an invitation, Dick would go. He would leave no matter what.

Big brother rules, Tim vaguely remembered. If danger came, if one of them would not be able to make it, if war was unavoidable. The oldest brother was the protector. That was the rules that had been set up, what Dick had instilled in them.

And if the time came that Dick…wasn't able to take his responsibility, Cassandra, the second oldest would be in charge. Jason would be third, and Tim would be fourth.

Tim watched with blurred eyes at the younger brother he would protect if all defenses were down.

He would be the one to take the draft papers if it ever happened. In a way Tim understood the rules, but Damian... could never fully understand the rules. The sacrifice.

Because he was the youngest, and he would be the last.

**END.**


	2. Chapter 2 - Linchpin

**Author's Note: **I don't even know…what I typed down anymore. I need to start having people re-read my stories to see if they make any sense…

**Summary: **Chapter Two **– **Linchpin

* * *

Damian was meant to rule. He had always known. It had been the whispered promises of his mother ever since he could understand what they meant. He had been born and bred as an emperor. He was the son of Talia Al Ghul, the daughter of Ra's Al Ghul, the most feared and influential man in Asia and Europe. Which was the reason he was confused as to why he had been sent to America where his father resided.

Damian wondered how his mother-a woman of such power and regal, choose a simple fool who had too much money, as a sperm donor to create him. He would never understand.

He remembered arriving at the less than impressive manor, remembered sneering at the tiny scrap of land that could not compare to the kingdom he had left.

His father had barely greeted him before he met...them.

His father's family (servants, he muttered to himself) were lowly orphans his father took pity in and adopted. They were crash lower class human beings who showed no respect to the true heir of the Wayne fortune.

Damian may have grown up sheltered (not from violence nor the real world, he had grown up sheltered from civilians) but Damian was also not a fool. His mother couldn't have sent him to this place without plausible cause. Did she want him to kill his father and take his empire? Was his fathers billion dollar fortune a test for him?

If so, it would be easy.

Except it wasn't.

Not when night dawned and his fathers' foolish act dropped and his 'siblings' woke from their dazed lives of normalcy.

It was then he realized his mistake. Bruce Wayne was not the fool he painted himself to be.

His father was also an emperor, and Gotham City was his empire.

Bruce Wayne who worked under the cover of the shadows ruled Gotham with an iron fist.

His mother seemed to have found a very good sperm donor indeed.

And it wasn't just Gotham, Damian suddenly realized how pathetic it would have been if it was. Gotham wasn't his empire, Gotham was his home. His empire was much bigger. Bruce Wayne's power extended to most of the major cities in North America and pass the borders of Mexico. It broached it way to the far West reaching the tiny islands of Hawaii. The islands that stood in the middle of the pacific that invited many of the countries surrounding it, and the perfect spot for trade.

It was territory his grandfather being of foreign status could never dream of taking away in his old age. Bruce though, was young, ambitious, and powerful. Ra's Al Ghul might not win in foreign territory, but with a young partner they could very well combine their power to rule the world. Ra's would be able to spread his influence and Bruce would be able to harness more power while still in his prime.

As Damian began to dig deep into his inheritance he gradually began to grow a respect for his father. A man whose influence was so huge and legendary that many even believed him to be a made up story, his real name and face hidden behind a mask which were whispered behind alleyways and empty streets.

_Batman._

The man who worked in the shadows. Whose fortune was a mystery to everyone but the man himself, where nothing happened without his knowledge and foresight.

While Damian stayed with his father he saw further evidence of his father's hidden intelligence. That was proven with the men that his father aligned himself with. One such man was Clark Kent. A man Damian had deemed as a simple muscle bound bodyguard, yet with a face as sweet as a harmless puppy.

The towering man who stood at 6'3 was dubbed as Superman courtesy of his physical strength and endurance that was seen as above human limitation. He learned that Clark was considered to be Bruce's right hand man. Not only did he serve Damian's father loyally as a imposing guard but also served as an insider in the entertainment business meant to contort the Medias image of his father. Playing him off as a billionaire playboy with a perchance of business and a lucky streak. Who played the white knight by giving to charity and flooding money for good causes. Clark was the reason no one would have suspected his father, and Damian knew to be wary of the man. His name, 'The man of steel' was not to be taken lightly.

Another powerhouse his father had connected himself with was a mafia princess whose roots traced back to ancient Greece. Diana Prince was a woman of power and refined beauty that rivaled the ancient goddess of Greek mythology. Her delicate looks contrasted with the steel manicured hand she commanded her followers with. His mother was one of the few women Damian really respected, but the mafia princess was...formidable. Whenever she came by, Damian stayed out of her way even if he did dislike the look of lust in her eyes whenever she turned those eyes to his father.

The rest of the men and women he quickly skimmed over consisted of a quick minded and slippery scientist in Keystone (who seemed to be the man behind some of the newer technologies his father would suddenly acquire), a group in the east who called themselves the Green Lantern Corp whose people though not as powerful as his father, had many members spread out around the world, eyes and ears for his father. And a couple of other rich men and women spread out around America that Damian cared not to learn too deeply about.

When revealed Damian had been more impressed than anything. Of course he should have given his mother more credit.

But what surprised Damian the most was not the people his father did business with, it was the ones he called his family.

After the dam had been broken and Damian was introduced to their world, his father had given him an ultimatum. If he wanted to be part of the family; he would need to go through the ranks and earn the respect. Blood meant nothing to his father unless it was blood given to him from hard work.

So Damian looked his father in the eyes and announced.

"I'll be the next Batman, and I'll crush anyone who gets in my way." His answer was the glares and scoffs of his adopted siblings before he was nicknamed as Robin. The lowest rank to start with. The little robin, a harmless bird. What a joke.

The rank was as follows Robin to Red Robin to Red Hood and after that, a chance to pick his own name.

He worked with each sibling, the skills of the other children shining through after he mentored under them.

Todd was an easy one to figure out, another one of his fathers guards who probably stood equal footing with Clark. Bruce was never seen without Superman and Red Hood flanked on each of his side. Damian could admire a man with an accuracy rate of a 100% with a gun. Now if only the young man wasn't so cocky. Jason Todd was a loose canon, he was someone Damian knew did not have the power nor the intelligence to be Batman. No, Jason Todd was having too much fun being the Red Hood and would surely stay in the position of Red Hood as long as he'd have it.

He was no threat to Damian's plan. And even though Damian never did like the older man even under his other guise, he was much more bearable then the other.

Drake.

Damian was sure he could smell the horrible stench claw its way into his nose every time Drake appeared. For all his delicate features and submissive loyalty to his father Damian could live without the teen. It was vomit inducing the way the teen would look wide eyed at his father. Pathetic. But grudgingly even weak geniuses had a place in an organizations like this. And admittedly Drake was...useful...with plans and other technicalities.

Damian could not deny all the things that Drake had done for his father. So long as the other stood out of his way, he'll let him live.

Gordon, or Oracle was the only one he had learned so far who had earned a chance to get a name. He had learned that she had been one of the best but the bullet from an enemy gang had left her wheelchair bound and it had put Damian at ease at the fact that she would never be able to be handed the name of Batman for that sole reason. Unfortunate of course. Damian though still kept a wary eye on her. She might not be able to walk but her strength in other areas made her…dangerous. Another woman that Damian thought he could admire.

The others, the blond he constantly named as the 'Fat-girl' Brown was forgettable. Brown's only redeeming quality was the efficiency of her gathering skills. No gossip was spoken that she didn't already know but ultimately Brown was infuriating and mischievous. She may have some skills but she was useless. Cain was a different story, she worked in the shadows more than anything. If he was honest, he would admit that Cain would have to be his favorite out of the four he had already named. She, like Jason was also one of his father's guards, but unlike Jason, she stayed far away from Bruce, barely being seen with him, mostly she stayed in the shadows carrying out assassinations like she should. He would definitely keep her in his circle.

The oldest however was a mystery to him. Dick Grayson out all of the others his father adopted never did take on the Wayne name. Damian always thought that the eldest did not approve of his fathers job and kept away. Grayson, the only one who smiled at him and who took him out for ice cream and parks, who gave him a term of endearment that held no bite of sarcasm that the others seem to have for him was a hard man to figure. He seemed to be so far away from his fathers influence that Damian had convinced himself that Grayson was probably an innocent bystander.

Todd had laughed at his theory when he had mistakenly spoken out to himself about how Grayson should leave the family if he was so intent on not getting involved.

Instead he was left in more confusion when Jason had tried to offer him an explanation.

"Kid, Superman might be his right hand man and me his left, but Dick. Dick Grayson is Bruce's heart. Don't forget it."

He had watched Grayson closely after that remark. It wasn't long before he noticed the meaning of it.

It was small things at first. Like the way Grayson would suddenly disappear when a problem became clear in the gang. At first Damian had thought it to be a way for him to leave while trouble was around but that was quickly abolished when he realized something. If problems arose and Dick wanted to be safe then staying within the family's watch would be the wisest.

Instead, Grayson would leave and right when he came back it was as if everything had already been sorted out. The way he'd suddenly show up with a smile on his face and the way he would ruffle Damian's hair giving him a warm smile before going straight to their fathers' office.

By then, it was so obvious Damian thought himself a fool, how did he not realize it sooner?

Everything became clear one day as he was invited to one of the meetings held by "The League" as they called themselves. He had stood on the side and had watched amazed as Grayson would suddenly intervene in the conversations to say something to Bruce. If he or even Jason dared to speak without permission they would have been punished. Dick's opinions seemed to be held in high regards, his father would hold a hand up for everyone to cease their talking as he thought about the suggestion given and giving an answer of his own.

Whatever Graysons position in his fathers' family was it was definitely high.

Drake of all people had finally shed some light one day, when the mongrel had leaned down to him and whispered out.

"Dick was the first Robin. He's also the very first one who had been given the right from the league to pick his own name." Damian had hissed at the idea.

So Grayson had earned the right that should have been rightfully his.

How convenient. Maybe then the only one he had to kill would be Grayson and no one else.

Plans though, did not seem to fall into place when it concerned the youngest Wayne.

No.

The knife to his throat was definitely not part of his plan.

"What's wrong baby bird?" The soft whisper tickled his ear as he tried not to move, even moving an inch would plunge the blade into his jugular and the person holding it didn't seem all that concerned about the life in his hands.

The once bright blue eyes that could melt the sun itself was staring back at him, those eyes lined sharply with the glint of silver reflected from the blade he was holding.

"Grayson. I'll kill you." He gritted out and the soft laughter that always seemed to fill the manor with such innocence now sent fear to creep up his spine.

"Little D," the voice continued on, still with the childish tone before it suddenly turned cold, the creeping feeling in his spine turned into needles as Grayson grabbed a hold of his face, pinching his cheeks together and unhinging his jaws." You might want to watch what you say around here, you might lose a tongue." The grip tightened more painfully and for once Damian could hear a helpless whimper escape from his mouth. Pathetic.

"Let's keep this a secret from _daddy_." The voice continued before the grip loosed and the blade by his neck disappeared. Grayson now stood in front of him, his face back to the one he knew so well. The face that took him to ice cream shops and cleaned his wounds when things got rough in training.

"You'll learn soon enough little brother," Grayson patted him on the head "lets just hope you're not as hard headed as Jason. I practically had to beat him up with a crowbar." The innocent mask slipped a little as a tiny smile seemed to appear before it was gone, "if you really want to kill me, maybe you should focus a little lower."

Damian, regaining the composure he had so shamefully lost in the hands of the happy-go-lucky man glared at the retreating back before a smile formed on his lips.

Maybe this family was getting to be a little more interesting now.

**END.**


	3. Chapter 3 - Flashpoint

**Summary:** Chapter 3- Flashpoint- The Flashpoint Paradox AU. Thomas Wayne goes to the circus.

**AN:** If you haven't watched Flashpoint yet, this may be a tad confusing so I will provide a small summary of the world (only Bruce's past though), please do not read this if you are planning to watch it and do not want it to be spoiled. You've been warned. **SPOILER Summary**: In this world Bruce is the one who was killed instead of his parents. His father Thomas Wayne is now Batman and his mother had gone crazy (she turns into a villain) Thomas is a bitter man who has turned into an alcoholic and has no problem with killing. He actually uses guns as his weapon and shows no mercy to his enemies. All right, now on with the story!

* * *

His face would always stay the same.

The smiling image of the child in the videos would never have the chance to grow up. Thomas would never be able to watch his shoulders broaden, never get to see his jaws grow angular and grow a beard and use a razor. He closed his eyes at that thought, taking another swing of the bitter sting of alcohol, his thoughts on the plastic razor toy his son had played with that fateful morning, mirroring him and giggling as he was handed the foam to put on his smooth baby face. It took a moment for the guilt to quell before he opened his eyes and continued to watch, making sure to take the raw pangs in his chest as his punishment.

The screech of the bats over head was overpowered by the static laughter from the large computer screen. The old videos played like a fresh memory in his brain. If he tried hard enough he could still touch his boys' soft cheeks as he kissed him goodnight, smell the lotion he used after his bath, hear his sons laughter as he played around in the living-room while he worked in his study.

But like the videos, those things would always stay in the past. Thomas looked down at the beverage in his hand. Pathetic. He was pathetic. For second, a question slapped itself across his face. _What had happened to his life?_

The answer though, stared back at him from the screen.

Bruce had been his life. He had been his future, everything he had loved and hoped and dreamed was in that boy, his own flesh and blood. The most precious thing he and his wife shared.

But his son was gone now.

The son who he had promised to love and care and protect, _he_, Gotham's most renounced doctor and he had been helpless. Left there to watch the body of his son cool as his wife fell into insanity.

He tightened his hands around the flask thinking of all the things his sons could have been. But Bruce would never have that chance. Bruce would never made it to his ninth year; he had barely made it to his eighth. Hardened blue eyes watched, only softening when it landed on the innocent smile of his boy. The bright blues looked up at the video camera before the boy waved. A final good-bye to his father.

How miserable, his job as a father and husband destroyed in a single night. Because of some common criminal, a thug, a man who would never live to repeat his act again. He made sure of that.

The anger he felt when he watched them lower the body of his son to the ground resurfaced and devoured him. He threw the whiskey on the floor watching the liquid flow from the tin metal reminding him of his sons' blood on the floor of the alley.

Bruce would have been twenty-eight now_, if he had lived_.

He stood up and walked up to the screen, his sons face still smiling back at him before it turned black. With heavy steps filled with renewed sorrow and anger he grabbed the guns that laid on the table and set out to the city.

The city that took everything from him.

It would not be a wise choice for any villain to be out tonight.

* * *

He had seen it on the papers through out the last two weeks. Even with the world in impending doom the circus had still arrived. It had been the whole highlight of Gotham, miserable town that it was, the bright colors displayed on the front page in bold letters announcing the exciting Haly's circus. It was the first time in a long time he wanted to go anywhere and for once he had changed into his civilian clothes and visited the city without Batman or his casino being the reason for it.

As Thomas stepped into the colorful tent of the big top, he only had one thought in mind, Bruce would have loved this. The crowd was a happy one, families together, laughing as they took their seats for the show. It was probably just one last happy memory for them before the war killed them all. He took a lonely seat in the back and ignored the fathers, mothers and children surrounding him.

"_Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls_!" The ring master called out and he leaned back in his seat, ignoring the memory of the excited look of his sons face if he had been there.

The show passed by in a blur for him, his awareness lost in the sea as it flickered in and out as the performances ended one after the other. He stayed longer than he thought he would, wondering what had made him stay; but the sounds of the children squealing in delight did it for him. He stood to leave when the last act was called out.

"_Please welcome the Flying Graysons_!" He looked up and saw the tiny family. The Flying Graysons, he remembered reading, was a family act that consisted of a husband and wife along with their nine year old son, he had been more curious than anything.

How could the parents put the boy in danger by letting him fly hundreds of feet in the air without the safety of a net? They were crazier than he was.

Those thoughts however were dashed as the act began, when he watched the family fly through the air, their forms reminding him of birds enjoying themselves in the sky. Thomas stood awed at the way they would let go of one another with the confidence that another hand would catch them. He let out a small humorless chuckle at the realization of the small family. Their trust was what kept them safe and that was better than any net to catch them.

He sat back down as the family glided through the air, making him wonder if they were secretly meta-humans with the ability to fly.

Finally the young boy was deposited on the platform as the last flip were to be performed by his parents.

Thomas doesn't know exactly what had happened next, only that there was a loud snap that didn't register to him that it had been the rope that carried the couple. His eyes had immediately gone to the falling bodies but it quickly turned its attention to the boy before the bodies hit the ground.

He didn't remember standing up, only that his eyes stayed on the little boy on the platform. He watched as the boy quickly slid down the stairs and ran to the body of his parents. For a second he felt a pang of jealousy, jealous at the fact that the elder Graysons would never feel the true pain of losing a child, jealous that their child had survived. How many times had he laid awake at night wishing that it had been him that had died that night?

Those feelings were pushed away and replaced with disgust at the thought as he watched the boy fall to his knees, unable to even cry out as he took in the scene before him. He knew that feeling, the shock, the unrealism of what just happened, the sudden feeling that he had lost something so great and yet his brain had not yet registered what or why.

Time must have stopped for the boy as it had been with him. He stood as the audience around him panicked emptying the tent faster then a stampede of antelopes from a hunter.

Thomas watched as the boy began to breathe deeply, face crumpling as his world started to crash around him, slowly he knew, the overwhelming realization had finally started to spread through the boy like a black hole.

The first cry was loud, a heart-wrenching wail that sounded like a cry of physical pain, like someone had just taken a hot poker and stabbed the boy through the heart. He watched as the Grayson boy laid his head on the collapsed chest of his father, the blood painting the side of his face as he trembled from the power of his cries.

It wasn't long before Thomas was standing in front of the wailing child, watched as the boy cried out for his parents to wake up. It was probably just sick fascination than true empathy that Thomas went to him, to look at the bodies of the parents and see the boy. At least that was what he convinced himself. Fighting crime for him always been bitter hared and vengeance, what did he need empathy for?

He didn't do anything to comfort the boy, but that was taken from his hands when a few of the other circus folks dropped beside the boy and held him tight, trying too late to pull the boy from the wretched bodies of his parents.

"Oh, Dick." The older man, the ringmaster, whispered against the child's hair, "I'm so sorry son, so _so_ sorry." Dick shook his head in despair, not wanting to hear those words.

"Please…they could still be alive." He hiccupped, a flash of hope, a desperate cry, anything to make it feel better.

"Oh son, I'm so sorry." Thomas watched the exchange before he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Mr. Wayne?" The voice called out quietly, as if worried his voice would break some semblance of the ambiance around the crying duo, "I'm sorry but we'll have to ask you to leave while we…" a crack in the mans voice as he gathered himself, "sort this out." Thomas nodded, he looked back down at the child who, finally realizing that he and the old man were not the only ones in the tent.

He looked up and Thomas stepped back at those eyes.

Those familiar blue eyes. The boy looked like _him_. He felt his heart surge at the similarity, before anger settled in. No, the boy before him was tinier than his son had been, his hair and skin darker, his eyes larger and eye color a shade lighter almost bordering on silver-blue. The boy sniffled, eyes dazed and searching as he stared up at him.

Thomas withdrew, spinning around so fast he became dizzy, or maybe that was just the fact the boy had looked like his dead son for a second.

He walked briskly towards the exit before his eyes caught sight of the rope he knew was from the swing. He knelt down and picked up the rope and narrowed his eyes at the obvious clean cut before the wires frayed out. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the couple had been murdered. He stood up and held on to the rope, no one in Gotham police would think twice about a murder case, not at these times anyway.

He exited the tent with a goal.

There were people he needed to see.

* * *

He threw the struggling body in front of the boy who looked up at him with those _**damned**_ blue eyes. Thomas looked away quickly from behind the cowl, he didn't think the boy would come, after he had sent the letter telling him he had his parents' killer he thought the boy would be smart enough to ignore it. Maybe his vengeance ran deeper than Thomas first thought.

He glanced back at the boy and took in his appearance for the first time since under the tent of the circus. Dick Grayson stood under the light of the alleyway wearing worn graying clothes given to him by the orphanage that he had probably escaped from. He looked thinner than Thomas remembered him from a few months ago, his eyes looked larger and made him look almost doll-like, but they reflected a broken boy. The eyes were not hollow like most that had lost everything, no, his eyes were a reflection of all the horrors he had seen, and it had lost some of its blue tint and looked grayer than the smog that covered Gotham.

Dick stood there looking up at cowled eyes before he looked down at the man thrown at his feet.

There were no words to be said. Instead Thomas stared back, face frozen in a stoic mask, he was giving the kid a chance. A chance to avenge his parents, it was the one thing he could give him to ease the pain. He had gotten the satisfaction of killing the man who took away his family; if anything else he could give this child the same.

From one of his many holsters he pulled out one of his spare guns, a lighter model and threw it at the kids feet. He stood there and watched as Dick picked it up, even though smaller then most of his pistols the gun still looked too big in those tiny hands.

He looked down at Tony Zucco as he grunted like an animal probably recognizing the boy he was given to, but with Batman at his back it gave him no lee-way of escape, but that did not stop him from trying.

Thomas growled out as he kicked the man down as he struggled to get up, laying his feet on the small of the mans back and pressing on the bone to make him stop.

Dick bit his lips as he hiccupped watching as Batman held the man still, a silent battle erupted in his head as he looked down at the heavy and loaded gun, he had never held a gun before, it was heavy and cold, and a tool that could very well end the mans life before him. After his parents' death he had felt so helpless, so weak and now he was give the power to balance righteousness in his hands.

The decision weighed as heavily as his world did the moment his parents died.

And for a second he let those memories wash through him.

* * *

Thomas knew that what he was doing, giving a child a choice to kill was probably the worst thing he had done in his life, but that emotion baggage was nothing to him now. He thought about what he would do if the kid refused to kill the bastard, he scoffed, _yeah right_; he knew what he would do, if the kid refused, he would end it. Gotham didn't need another thug in her streets.

The kid better be fast, his trigger finger was getting restless and the bug underneath his feet would start getting ideas in his head.

* * *

Dick wondered what his parents would think if they were here, and right then a moment of clarity. _If they were here…_ The voice mocked out, they weren't here, this man took them away, he would never see them again, never hear their voice, never feel their arms around him when he was scared. The image of his parents face as they fell cemented his decision.

He looked up to Batman and nodded.

Batman nodded back.

He raised the gun, holding it with two hands and Batman was surprised the boy knew how to hold it; the gun shook as his tiny shoulders trembled. His eyes blurred with tears as he aimed at the man before him.

Tony struggled but the bindings and the man behind him held him in place. He shook his head in plea, words muffled by the makeshift tie around his mouth.

Dick looked up with Thomas and for a second the lost look in those eyes seemed to clear up as the gun went off. He staggered back at the recoil, falling back in tandem with the thud of the falling body.

* * *

Batman stood there and watched as the boy looked at the body and cried, his mouth spewing out apologies to his parents.

His work was done here.

...

...

...

...

It was only a few steps when he heard it. The soft foot falls of someone following him. He stopped and he knew before he turned around what would be there.

The boy stood behind him gun still in hand and the bottom part of his jeans bloodied by the act of what he had done. Those eyes stared up at him in a daze, a little lost lamb.

Batman turned and continued on.

And the boy followed him into the darkness.

**END.**

**AN: **So I have two more chapters I plan to put up for this before I wrap it up, which I can hopefully post along with a new chapter of 'In my son's eyes' if you guys are also reading that.

Also my work has been pretty hectic lately so even though I always write I never have time to read through my works and edit them. That's the problem with me. I know I should probably look for a beta, but I feel like my writing is so boring and suck-y that I'm too embarrassed to ask for someone to proof read it. I liken it as torture for them if I do.

Lastly, I have posted a poll that will probably be open for the rest of the month, as I've been poking around and writing some one-shots which I have yet to edit, I've put up a poll to prioritize so please check it out and vote. Thanks!


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